top of the hill, and though she walked as fast as she could, it was no
longer there when she had gone far enough to see the door. The doctor,
who was a busy man, had handed Marcello over to the men on duty at the
entrance, with an order he had pencilled on his card while driving up,
and had gone on at once. But Regina was convinced that Marcello was
there, as she hurried forward.

A man in blue linen clothes and a laced cap stopped her on the steps and
asked what she wanted.

"A young man has just been brought here, very ill," she explained, "and
I want to see him."

"A very young man? Fair? Thin? From the Campagna? In rags?"

"Yes. I want to see him."

"You can see him to-morrow, if he is alive," answered the orderly in a
business-like tone.

"To-morrow?" repeated Regina, in a tone of profound disappointment.

"To-morrow is Sunday. Friends and relatives can visit patients on
Sundays between nine and four."

"But he has no other friends," pleaded Regina. "Please, please let me go
to him!"

"To-morrow between nine and four."